Currently Listening: River Flows Through You - Yiruma.
Current Mood: Optimistic.

Yesterday I entered my bedroom entranced by the smell of fall-inspired candle scents; one of my favorites.
I haven't bothered to make my bed in over a week, there's a small pile of clothes on the back of my chair I've yet to hang back up, and my newly washed clothes lay in a basket at the foot of my bed.
Jewelry lays out on my desk, my purses carefully disregarded on the window ledge and the dresser.
My bedside table is a conglomerate of empty water bottles, aspirin, books, magazines and my laptop.
This sounds like a train wreck, to some people [my mother and sister included] it would be.
Ask me where anything is, I can tell you. I know where each and every minute piece of my daily routine lies amidst of the chaos. Nothing is lost, merely placed aside until it is deemed necessary for my current needs.
My ipod is in the Marc Jacobs bag, two pair of sunglasses are in my Louis, the other pair as well as my reading glasses are in the former.
My current personal interest novel is on my bedside, the ones for class sprawled across my window sill.
Keys; See Marc Jacobs bag.
Planner; see school bag.
Shorts from Saturday night; see clothes basket.
Shoes; see closet/bedside/computer desk.

You say chaos; I say control.
This, is my life.
Up until yesterday I had convinced myself that the chaos was a part of my life I needed to get away from. My life was out of control, and I had no means of stopping it. I hated it. I wanted change. Needed something new to remove me from this uncontrolled emotional turmoil of the everyday.
I wanted help. I couldn't do this on my own. I could no longer control my life. And I hated it.

Yesterday I entered my room entranced by the smell of fall-inspired candles, and chaos.
And I loved it.
Of course I'm not in control of my life. No one is ever in control of their own life. Life is meant to throw us curves we cannot expect or interpret. This is how we grow.
Before yesterday I had stopped growing. I was trying to control the here and now. Not bending to meet the curves head on, but allowing them to wrap me up so tightly I couldn't move.
I lived in the past. Groped for the past. Longing to obtain some lost feeling or experience.
Yesterday, I moved on.
Today, I am growing.
Tomorrow, I'll do the same.

My life is chaos. Fueled by uncertainty and ignorance of the things to come.
But, now, I'm ready for them.
Bring on the pain, the happiness, the heartache, the love.
Bring on the loss, the gain, the beginning of new and ending of old.

I'm ready.

..and i was under the impression that murder was unlawful.

How do I even begin to explain the combination of fury, disbelief and despair i felt upon watching this video? Normally when I feel compelled to write I don't even need to think. My emotions control the keyboard, the flow of words and the meaning behind them. But, right now, I'm in shock. I'm infuriated. I'm incredulous. The desperation is overflowing as I search for some means of reconciliation as to why anyone of sound heart and mind could be so cruel as to murder, with good conscience, a helpless infant.
This video is revolting. It sickens me to my very core. My body cries out in pain as the pressure in my chest increases. My mind is frozen, searching desperately for a reason why such a cruel abomination of God's will is not considered by our government to be unjust.
More disturbing still, how any living person with the consciousness of family- a mother, father, sister, brother, son or daughter, could actually contemplate electing this heartless monster to be ruler of the free world.




Where is the vindication in his malignancy for an infant's life? How can he justify wanting to save soldiers' lives by surrendering in Iraq, yet so callously cast his vote to allow premature infants to suffer mercilessly for their short lives, only to die in complete anonymity? When a soldier dies I will mourn, death is a tragedy no family should have to bear, but that soldier volunteered himself, his life, consciously acknowledging the possibility of his own death. The Nation will mourn, will protest, will fight, to end the deaths of our soldiers, but tell me who is mourning the deaths of defenseless children? Why are we justifying the murders of the innocents?
The murder of a child, his or her life in the hands of their mother and father, is an abomination of the human race. It sickens me to acknowledge that in our feckless selfishness our people will 'eliminate' a conceived child.
Congratulations, Mr. Obama. You have your "change". You have successfully utilized your political power to unscrupulously tell the world it is perfectly acceptable to murder their children. God's children.
You throw around the number of deaths from war. Blame Bush. Blame the Republican party. Blame ANYONE, as long as it helps your campaign.
Well, here are some numbers for you;
Every day more than 4,000 children are murdered.
Mathematically, that is an average of 1,460,000 deaths every year.
Since January 22, 1973, over 50,000,000 have been killed.
That blood, Mr. Obama, is on YOUR hands.
I truly hope that helps you sleep at night.




*if this video affected you in any way, and I truly hope it did, here is a link to the site of the Pro-Life Day of Silent Solidarity
http://www.silentday.org/
On Tuesday, October 21, 2008, we will be silent. If you would like to join us, get in contact with me via facebook or myspace.

can I please grow up now?

Oh, Abilene, i claim to love you.. and in a sense I do. I love being my own person, making my own decisions, living away from home.. but, wait, what am I really claiming here?
This is my home.. 8 months out of the year.. and how am I living it?
Am I being my own person? Or merely following the path set before me by my peers.
My own decisions? Hardly. More often than not I'm falling subjective to the will of my friends who insist I 'be more social'. More social? Your pathetic idea of being 'social' reeks of the stale smell of beer and liquor.
'You should really try to be social, Brit. Meet new people.'
Sure, I'll meet to people. First, let me down 5 beers and a few shots so I can get past my excruciating social anxiety and converse with people whom will be completely strangers in the morning, while I press ice to my head and regurgitate my liquid courage.
Wait. Stop. What just happened? Where is the independent person I claim to be?
The reflection in the mirror seems exhausted. Eyes, once bright and intriguing, now surrounded by the shadows of the the night before. Skin, once flushed with sunset hues, is pale and sullen, streaks of pale gray fall down from my eyes. The tears are involuntary now, brought on by the shock of my own recognition.
Who am I? I have absolutely no notion of my own self.
I am that one subjected to the desires of her generation.
I am everything everyone wants me to be.
Everyone but myself and my God.
HE wants me to live for HIM. ONLY HIM.
And who am I living for?
THEM.
I'm struggling now. My sense of self has dissipated at a rate I cannot even fathom, so that I no longer know when I actually WAS myself.
How long have I been a puppet to the will of my friends?
Friends.. there is a strange word.. those are the people who care about me, right?
They care about my well-being, my hopes, desires, dreams?
Facebook says I have hundreds of them. Hundreds of people who look at the pictures of the pretty girl with her pretty friends and the hideous glaze of intoxication in her eyes.
Judge me. I'm sure you all do, and you have every right to. Maybe you could come to some conclusions about myself I've yet to understand.
The only conclusion I can come to is that I have absolutely no idea what friends are. Who they are.
So, here's a test for all my 'friends'.
Do you know anything about me, aside from my appearance?
Do you know that I have a desire to change the world?
That I've read more books for pleasure than I could ever actually count?
That I'm intelligent?
That I would MUCH rather talk about politics and religion than the latest episode of "The Hills"?
That I hold myself at such a standard that I experience a complete sense of failure if my grade drops below a B?
That I am MUCH more inclined to sit at home and read a book than go out and pretend that my ability to throw a ball into a plastic cup half-filled with stale beer actually holds some meaning to my life?
Do you have any idea that I have struggled for YEARS losing and gaining weight so that I may fit into the mold of 'beautiful'?
That I have been hurt. Extensively. By a lot of people. Most of whom I gave the title 'best friend'. Some of whom I had given the title 'boyfriend.'
So,
I am sorry if I'm a bit anti-social.
I am sorry if I refuse to accompany you to a five-kegger.
And I am DEEPLY sorry if our 'friendship' suffers because I am ready to grow up and move on.
But I will no longer be held back by boys who would rather think of me naked than think of me fondly, and girls who appreciate my wardrobe more than they appreciate my well-being.

I'm sure I've offended more than one person here.. but maybe its about damn time somebody brought you to reality.
I guess we'll see who my friends are after this goes public.

Thanks for reading.

pieces.

she's perfect, isn't she?
everything i couldn't be.

it doesn't help that you're happy.
though, i'm sure it should.

comparatively, she's all.
that.
it.
every
thing.
i wasn't.
i can't.

be.

i won't pretend.

i would have,
for you,
anything.
for
everything.

you.

everything. i'll never have.
and more still,
forever.

i didn't know
couldn't.
wouldn't.
until.

you're gone.
i'll let it go.
let you,
go.

i must.

for..saking sanity
and life.
i let this go.

and for life,
i go.

forever.